The Child Who Changed The Heart Of A Man
by L. Drayton
Summary: When Sherlock brings home an injured, exhausted and recently orphaned child what events will ensue? Basically a cute story of Sherlock becoming a little bit more loving and a little bit more human. Rated T for violent themes. Enjoy! x
1. A Discovery

**Um... Hello! How are we all? So I wrote this yesterdaay and it was literally about 400 words, then I sat down to edit it and this is what churned out! Hope you all love it and can't wait to read any feedback x  
- Livvy x**

Chapter 1

After hours of study at Bart's, he'd called it a day and now Sherlock was trudging through the streets of London in the dark, miserable at not finding what he'd wanted from the hours of intense research on a particularly interesting body. H e pulled his coat closer to him, grateful for the warmth on the cold night. Sometimes he hated living in London.

Sherlock let out an audible sigh of relief when he came to the street that led onto Baker Street, grateful that he wasn't far away. It was then that he heard it - a scream coming from close by. He stopped and listened, facing the direction of the sound. It came again, followed by a plea for help. Then a thud and silence. Sherlock decided quickly that whoever this person was might need him, and that if there was ever a time to be a hero, now was that time.

It wasn't like him to go running off to help random people who were strangers to him. He didn't care about strangers (he'd only recently started to care for his family and gain friends) so why was he running off in the dark for some person? What had John done to him?!

Sherlock came to the entrance of a dark alley, and hesitated for only a moment, listening to the sound of faint crying coming from it before going down it into further blackness. "Hello?" he called into the dark. It was a risky move, going into that alley, because if there was a mugger or even a murderer here, he was essentially dead already, as he couldn't even see his hand in front of his face.

"H-hello..?" A small voice replied.

"I'm here to help you." No turning back now.

"W... What?"

"I'm here to help you," he repeated, resisting the urge to roll his eyes despite the possibly serious situation. "Are you alright?"

"I don't... I don't understand," came the small voice. Sherlock guessed that they were about five meters away from him, but he couldn't determine a gender or an age due to the shaky voice and the sniffs.

"I heard you calling for help so here I am. What happened?"

"We... I... We were attacked."

"Are you hurt?" Sherlock questioned.

"I... Yes... My arm."

"Okay. Um..." Sherlock was at a loss of what to do. If this person was injured, they'd need a doctor. But then again, if they had been attacked, perhaps it was best to report it to the police first. He couldn't leave this person on their own, as they were obviously in a bad way. Then, an idea struck him. "Do you want to come back to my flat? My friend's a doctor, and I can get in contact with the police if you wish to report the incident tonight."

"Um... Okay..."

"Unless you have someone else I could ring for you? A friend? Family member, perhaps?"

"I don't have... Any... Family... Anymore," Was the strange reply. Sherlock turned to leave the alley, assuming the mysterious person would follow.

"Well, come with me then. I suppose I can provide accommodation for you until tomorrow, and then I shall escort you back to your home. If you just wait for a second, I can get the light on on my phone to help you see where you're going."

"Alright." There was a loud sniff, and then the unmistakable sound of the person standing up. Sherlock fished around in his coat pocket for his phone, turning it on and scrolling through to find his torch. "I'm... I'm not alone, though."

"That's okay," Sherlock replied, not really listening. He turned on the torch and shone it in the direction of the voice.

There stood a small child, about the age of nine. He wore a thick brown jacket, but it was sliced up the arm and nothing but tatters now. Blood was seeping rapidly from the gash in his arm, staining the small hand that was clamped over it tightly. His hazel hair was messy and matched the colour of his eyes. However, Sherlock saw more than just a colour in those eyes. He saw fear, pain, sorrow and exhaustion.

He was more than a little surprised that the person he'd been talking to was a child, and shocked at how he'd failed to realise it before hand from the voice.

Laying next to the child was a woman of about thirty, who was unmistakably dead. Her eyes were open in shock, but her mouth was closed.

Sherlock looked over to the child, hoping above hope that he understood that his mother (presumably that's who she was) was dead so he wouldn't have to explain it, as he knew he wasn't perhaps the most tactful when it came to death and small children.

"She can't come with us though, can she?" the small boy asked, eyes wide and tearful.

"I... I don't think so."

"Are... Are you going to leave her here?"

"No, I'm not. I'm going to call a friend of mine who will take her to a morgue so they can find out who killed her."

"That's... Good." Sherlock quickly deduced that the child was half asleep, and looking at him in the light he could see the slight unsteadiness the boy had on his feet. He'd contact Lestrade a bit later, when he had a cup of tea steaming in his hands.

"But right now, we have to get back. It's not far, can you make it?"

"I..." the child took one step and swayed dramatically, and Sherlock found himself reaching out and catching him. He was slightly alarmed by this new sensitive, caring Sherlock, but he decided to ponder upon it later.

"No, you can't," he stated as he tucked his phone into his pocket and picking up the child, albeit hesitantly. The contact felt strange, as it had been the first he'd had (except for handshakes and accidental nudges on the street and the tube) since his childhood.

"I'm... I'm sorry," came a small, shaking voice, slightly muffled by Sherlock's thick coat.

"What for?" he replied, absently. Most of his mind focusing on getting out of the alley without tripping over.

"That I can't walk."

"It's fine. It's all fine."

They continued in silence. Sherlock walking hesitantly and slowly until he finally reached the main street and could walk normally, and the boy trying hard not to cry into his savior's posh coat, trying even harder not to get his blood on it, but trying the most not to fall asleep.

**I am planning to continue this and it's probably going to be a three-shot or a full length story (it all depends on the amount of reviews).**


	2. My Name's Arthur

**Just a little note to say that I'm understand some readers may be dissapointed that this chapter is shorter than the first, but the rest of the chapters will be around this length. I hope this doesn't bother you too much, guys! Please enjoy!**

**- Livvy xxx**

To say that John was startled when his flatmate entered the living room with an unconscious, bleeding child in his arms would be a huge understatement.

"What the hell did you do?!" John almost yelled. Sherlock shot his a dirty look and shushed him. "No, I'm serious, Sherlock - what happened?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and walked over to the sofa, laying the boy onto it surprisingly gently. He whipped out his phone and sent a quick text to Lestrade which simply said the address, the words 'bring a torch' and his initials. Then he looked down at the brown haired boy laying on his sofa.

"Sherlock," John said, in a don't-argue-with-me voice.

Sherlock sighed. "I found him in an alley with his dead mother. He's a victim of an attack and injured so I've brought him here so you can do your doctoring on him while we track down the person who killed his mother and a relative for him to live with."

John smiled, despite the serious crime which Sherlock had become involved with, yet again.

"What?"

"You did well," John complimented, and the detective looked down at his feet, silently pleased with the praise. The doctor then left to retrieve his equipment and Sherlock took a seat, his phone vibrating in his pocket simultaneously. He took it out and read the reply to his previous message.

_On my way. Are you hurt?_

_- GL_

Sherlock grimaced. What was wrong with people and sentiment today? He quickly tapped back a reply.

_No. Obviously. _

_-SH_

John reappeared then, with a few medical instruments including a needle and thread. He noticed Sherlock looking and explained that it might be necessary. Sherlock had never enjoyed the sensation of a needle stitching up his skin, but he decided not to comment.

The doctoring instincts then took over as John knelt beside the small boy, examining his injury and tutting, then reaching for the appropriate instruments and liquids.

"Can I wake him up?" John asked Sherlock. The detective looked surprised at the question but put John's strange question down to his sentiment. Sherlock just nodded nonchalantly and reached over for his laptop. John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's feigned uninterest and shook the child awake gently.

The boy's eyes opened slowly and then widened in shock at the sight of the man in front of his face.

"Who... Who are you? Where am I?" He asked, eyes darting around the room and back pushing up against the sofa he was lying on.

"It's okay. You're safe. My name's John Watson." The boy finally looked into his eyes with a questioning look. "It's alright, I'm a doctor."

This seemed to alarm the boy even further and he tried to push past John, but a strong hand pushed him back onto the sofa. Then the boy let out a yelp and a sigh was heard from Sherlock and he placed his laptop on the floor and advanced towards the scene. He pulled John back, and replaced where he sat.

"Wha... What? Who...?"

"Calm down. My name's Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend John Watson. We're going to take... Care of you until we can find someone for you to live with. But first, John needs to do a few things on your arm so it doesn't fall off completely, okay?" A playful yet tiny smile appeared on his lips as he said the last sentence, and the boy gave him a confused semi-smile back.

"Oh."

"Everything will be alright- wait, what's _your _name?" John asked from behind Sherlock.

The boy answered without hesitance. "My name's Arthur! Daddy said it was because of the great King Arthur who did all of the king-y stuff and was really cool. He says I'm brave like him." At this John and Sherlock both smiled and Sherlock said that he thought Arthur was very brave, and the boy glowed with pride, which John thought was strange, as only a few seconds ago he's been petrified of both men, and certainly would not be fishing for compliments from them.

"Well, I'm just going to do a few doctor-y things and then you can go to bed."


	3. Science Experiments

"Come on, John! Honestly, I'll never understand why so many of the human race can sleep solidly for so long! Get up!"

Sherlock was banging on John's door, not wanting to enter in case of John being naked or something equally horrific. He waited for a few seconds then banged again.

"John!"

"Wha..?" came the muffled reply. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm coming in, make yourself reasonable."

He did come in, and John was completely clothed, so everything was going splendidly. Sherlock sat down on John's bed and slapped his face.

"OW!" John exlaimed, bolting upright with a hand to his face. "What the hell was that for?"

"You needed to be fully aware and I had no water."

"That doesn't mean you can come in here and slap me, Sherlock! That hurt!"

"Evidently," Sherlock replied with a smirk.

"What do you want?"

"The boy."

"Arthur," John corrected.

"Yes, him."

"What about him?"

"What do I do with him?"

"Huh?"

"For example, when do I wake him up? What do I feed him? Can I leave him on his own? Will it be alright with him if Lestrade comes round today and questions him? Do we need to get him new clothes? What-"

"Enough! Look, just give me a few minutes to get dressed and showered and I'll be ready to handle him."

"Okay. Good."

"He's still asleep, I take it? Seeing that it is-" John glanced at the clock "- only half past six and he's probably worn out."

"Yes, he's still asleep on the sofa. That's another thing actually, John."

"What?" John was getting tired of talk now, and his face still throbbed.

"Do we need to get him a bed or something?"

"Sherlock! He's only going to be here for a little while! Why in God's name would we need to buy him a BED?"

"It's unhealthy for the spine to sleep on a surface such as our sofa for too long."

"Okay, we'll sort something out. Now please, just give me a few minutes peaces to get ready."

"Fine. Be quick." Then he left just as quickly as he had come and John just looked after him and thought, _Wow. I never thought I'd see the day when Sherlock cares for someone. _

And he smiled. This boy could do the world of good for the stone hearted detective.

SH-JW-AW

When Sherlock came back into the living room, there was no longer a boy sleeping on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, but just the blanket scruffily draped on the cushions. Sherlock quickly looked around, panicked.

"Arthur?" He called. But there was no reply.

The detective quickly noticed the dark brown hair on the threshold to the kitchen and immediately knew where he was.

He walked into the kitchen and was horrified by what he saw. Arthur was standing on a chair to give himself a boost and was mixing together some of his most dangerous chemicals. There was smashed glass on the table, coupled with a liquid stain and black marks. Sherlock made the deduction that something had exploded.

"Arthur! What are you doing! Get down from there, it's not safe!" Arthur just looked at Sherlock, slightly scared, and climbed onto the table.

The detective ran towards the boy and picked him up, off of the table.

"What were you doing?" He questioned the child, who stared into Sherlocks eyes with huge brown ones, full of fear.

"I- it went a pretty colour and then went 'boom!' I... I thought it was cool, so I tried to do it again. I'm sorry. Please don't be angry."

"I'm not angry with you, it's just that was dangerous. If you like explosions and chemical reactions then we can do some experiments together later. But never do it on your own, okay? And listen to me. If I say get down, I mean get down not climb on the table. Alright?"

"Okay."

"How's your arm?"

"I don't know, I can't really feel it."

"Hmmm. That's good, I suppose." Sherlock then placed Arthur back on the floor. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Well, I could kill for a cup of tea, thanks," came a voice from the doorway.

"I'm not asking you, John. But fine. Wait, how long have you been standing there?"

"About five minutes," with that he gave sherlock a knowing look and smiled. Sherlock just rolled his eyes and turned back to make some tea.


	4. Space

**Heya guys! Here's chapter 4! I seem to be losing my muse a bit with chapters 5 ad 6, so they might take a while longer than my other updates. Anyways, as always I hope you enjoy!**

**- Livvy xxx**

Once the tea had been drunk and Arthur had finished his requested toast, the two men in the room mutually decided that the child needed new clothes. Urgently.

"A jacket is essential," Sherlock mused.

"And probably a few tops," John agreed.

"Might as well get some trousers."

"Well, if we're getting trousers we might as well get shoes too."

"Ah yes."

Arthur started jumping excitedly. "Are we going out?"

"Yes."

"Yay! Adventures!" Arthur began laughing and running round the living room. John smiled and Sherlock couldn't help a small smirk from creeping onto his face.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Has Lestrade been saying anything?"

"He wants to come and talk Arthur, but I don't think he's ready."

"Lestrade?"

"No, idiot. Arthur."

"Ah. Yes. I agree. Well, he might be okay with it tonight, if not we can wait as long as he needs to."

Sherlock nodded.

"Are you ready to get going?"

"Yes. How about you, Arthur? Are you ready?"

"I'm always ready for adventures!"

And with that the trio left the flat.

SH-JW-AW

The shops were very annoying to Sherlock. So many bright signs bragging about deals and offers that never used to interest him but now he found himself constantly saying things like "look at that, John. 2 for 1 on kids' pajamas."

He couldn't help it. That's why it was even more frustrating when John snickered in response.

"Look, Arthur, this is nice, yeah?" John suggested, holding up a red jacket.

"Yes! Yes, I like that! Is there anything with rockets?"

"Hmm? Rockets? Why rockets?"

"I like rockets! Sciencey stuff and spacey stuff! That's why I like school, well, sort of."

"Okay, I promise if I see anything 'spacey' I'll let you know."

"Thank you, Mister John!"

"It's just John."

Sherlock stalked off to a different part of the shop, bored of the conversation now even though he hadn't been a participant. He took out his phone and looked at his messages. 1 new message blinked up on his screen.

_When do you want me to come round then? -GL_

Sherlock quickly tapped a response.

_No. How long does the boy have before it becomes completely necessary? -SH_

A reply came through very quickly.

_I don't know, about 3 days? Why? - GL_

_I don't think he'll be ready too soon. He's subconsciously pressing the events down and attempting to ignore them. It could be a tough procedure to bring them into his mind with possible severe consequences. -SH_

_Well I'm giving you 3 days. This case needs to be solved, Sherlock. There's a murderer on the lose and all you're doing to help is play happy families. So 3 days is generous. -GL_

_I'm just thinking of the boy. -SH_

_Well start thinking about the other lives at risk. -GL_

"Everything okay?" John said, coming over to Sherlock with the first shopping bag of the trip which concealed the red jacket. Arthur was gripping John's coat and jumping excitedly.

"Just fine." Sherlock flashed a rare smile and put his phone away. "Where to now?"


End file.
